Pass It Around
by nanaa127
Summary: Aramis sees it as love and kindness. Athos needs Aramis to understand that the rest of the world will see it as treason. A small tag to S1E9. Written for the Fêtes de Mousquetaires May challenge.


In the moment it happens, Athos simply has too much on his mind to fully process it. He freezes upon witnessing the two of them lying in bed together and briefly questions his own sanity. As he stomps away from the small room, with the memory of Aramis' guilty face seared into his brain, he wonders whether he has misread the situation. He tries to think of a good reason, or any reason at all that doesn't involve treason, as to why Aramis would be in a state of undress with the Queen in his arms _and good God has that fool of a man lost his damn mind?_

He doesn't have time to ponder it further. Protecting the convent and the Queen - _the one that has slept with Aramis -_ was his top priority, and Athos tries to push the unbelievable scene to the back of his mind. His conviction to deal with the mess later lasts only as long as it takes for Aramis to walk into the alcove, half-dressed and sheepish.

"I still can't see what they're doing," he says, striding to the window as if everything was just fine and he has not just betrayed his oaths and his country during the night.

"They could be tunneling," Athos replies absently. He takes a deep breath to still his hands, to keep them from taking his reckless, impulsive brother by the shoulders and shaking him senseless.

Aramis turns to him. "About what you saw - "

Athos cuts him off before Aramis gets any further. He doesn't want Aramis to say it out loud, doesn't want any of it to become real. As long as the marksman doesn't put words to it, Athos can pretend that it was a figment of his imagination or a bad dream. He had thought that the wine had tasted funny last night. "I didn't see anything, because I was in here all morning and so I possibly couldn't have seen a thing, you understand?" he hisses.

Aramis nods briefly, yanks the spyglass out of his hands and goes to the window again. There's a frenetic quality to his movements that is uncharacteristic. Athos can tell that Aramis understands he might have done something very wrong.

"These walls are too thick," Aramis says, pounding his fist ineffectually against the stone and plaster. "The garrison will be here by then - "

Athos cuts him off again. "I cannot believe you slept with the _Queen!"_ The words burst out of him against his wishes, furious and disbelieving.

"I thought you didn't see anything - "

"They'll hang you. And then they'll hang me for letting it happen." And that is the crux of the issue. They would find out. Perhaps he was being fatalistic, but things like this always had a way of getting out. And he would have no defense to offer, no way to protect his brother from himself, from the long reach of the law.

Athos eventually allows Aramis to walk away. Now is not the time for Athos to berate his brother and to unload his anger. The comte needs Aramis to be at his best and sharpest if they are to survive the assault. Despite the marksman's halfhearted joke about taking the secret to the grave, Athos refuses to see anyone else in the convent die before the day is done, least of all Aramis. Or, God forbid, the Queen. And so Athos shifts his focus, allowing the rush of battle to flood his veins. Duty comes first. He would address everything else later.

* * *

When they finally get back to the garrison, the day won and Anne safely returned to the palace, Athos corners Aramis in the marksman's quarters. He flings open the door, slams it shut behind himself and saunters in without waiting for an invitation. Aramis has removed his weapons belt and sash and is in the middle of unbuttoning his doublet when he turns to greet Athos with a smile. The smile is immediately wiped off his face when Athos takes a hold of the soft, worn leather and pushes the younger man back until he hits the wall with a dull thud.

"Athos? What - " His inquiry is interrupted when Athos roughly slams him back again. Aramis grimaces as the back of his head bounces off the wooden slats but he doesn't resist.

"What were you thinking? _What in God's name were you thinking?"_ Athos asks, his voice low and furious. "Were you thinking at all?"

"I...I don't know. It happened so fast - "

"You don't know? How could you not know? You were there, were you not? I'm assuming that you were an active participant since I found you _naked_ in bed with the _Queen_!" Athos was finding it incredibly difficult to keep himself from just screaming in the other man's face.

Aramis sighs and his head falls back. He squeezes his eyes shut and frowns as if he's in pain. "I didn't mean for it to happen," he offers quietly.

"Well, that's a comfort," Athos retorts angrily, his words echoing their previous discussion in the convent. "I'm sure the King will be very forgiving since you didn't mean for it to happen."

Aramis opens his eyes and there is nothing but understanding and acceptance there. He gently wraps his own hands around Athos' fists, which have maintained their white-knuckled grasp on his doublet. "I'm sorry, Athos. Forgive me."

"Being sorry isn't going to keep the noose from tightening around your neck," Athos says, the burning fury leaving him as suddenly as it had come. A cold dread grows out of the ashes of his anger. Athos releases his brother and steps back. "How could you?"

Aramis shakes his head as he sidles away from Athos and perches himself on the edge of his bed. He rests his elbows against the knees and clasps his hands as if in prayer. "I wasn't thinking clearly," Aramis says, his head hanging down. "It hurt, when Isabelle was killed."

"Who's Isabelle?" Athos is confused now. It could be difficult to keep track of all the women in Aramis' life. Athos usually doesn't bother trying, but now he's forced to do so.

"Sister Hélène. I knew her once, in a past life. We were to be married, to have a child together, when she disappeared. We had only just reunited when she died."

"I see. I'm sorry for your loss." The picture still isn't entirely clear to Athos, but he can see where this is headed.

"I was grieving. The Queen, she...she offered me comfort, in her great kindness. I accepted." Aramis looks up at Athos and there is sorrow and awe shining in his eyes. "She is a remarkable woman, Athos." Athos' stomach turns sour with anxiety and fear upon hearing his brother's hushed words.

"Remarkable or not, you should not have accepted," Athos reprimands severely, but his sharp mind understands that it is a problematic situation. Sleeping with the Queen is treason, a seditious act. There is no question about that. But to refuse the Queen... Athos has seen other nobles take advantage of their elevated position to punish those beneath them when their advances are rebuffed. Athos is fairly certain that Anne would not do such a thing, but there is always a risk. "And the Queen should never have put you in that position."

Aramis shakes his head. "She didn't do anything wrong," he disagrees.

Athos is not surprised. "I simply cannot believe you'd be so foolish," he murmurs.

"I know. But it did not feel foolish at the time. It felt like something beautiful." There is an apology in his voice, but also defiance. "Why should love be forbidden, Athos? Why should it be a crime to love someone?"

"Love? What you're feeling is not love, Aramis. It's infatuation. Your preference for women with powerful connections has already been noted," Athos says incredulously, referring to Adele. "And it is a crime because she is _married_ to the _King!"_ The anger returns. Athos can't tell whether Aramis doesn't recognize the enormity of his actions, or if he simply doesn't care.

Aramis winces and backtracks quickly. "Of course, you're right," he says quietly. "But it could be love. I could love her. I think I might." The last bit comes out as a whisper, as if he's saying something very private.

"And what of your love for your King and country? For your brothers?" Athos demands. "Do you understand what you have done? You may signed your own death warrant for a night of comfort. You may have destroyed us, Aramis." The words are cruel, but Athos wants Aramis to hurt as he does. Because Athos can see something that Aramis apparently cannot, or will not. He sees the beginning of the end. Aramis is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Athos could not ask him to mask his emotions anymore than he could ask himself to sing and dance in the street, at least not without a copious amount of alcohol. From here, Athos can only see two options. Either someone notices his brother's yearning and condemns him for it, or Aramis permanently removes himself from the Queen's presence. Both choices make his heart and head ache.

"I'm sorry, Athos," Aramis repeats helplessly. But Athos knows that Aramis is only sorry for causing Athos distress, for putting him in a terrible position. He's not sorry for what he's done. Not when there is love involved.

The swordsman crosses his arms as he regards his brother. He should have known, should have seen it coming. With all his vaunted tactical genius, he has missed the simplest, most obvious of potential problems. The long glances, the gifts, the small touches. At the time, he had dismissed it as two tactile, generous people acknowledging each other. Athos is aware that women find Aramis very appealing. And there is no reason not to - he is every bit the handsome, romantic hero that he paints himself to be. Athos loves his brother, admires his bravery and skill and is honored to fight by his side. But Athos also knows of Aramis' weakness for beautiful women. And the Queen is a very beautiful woman.

It is not just Aramis and the Queen that are at fault. Athos has failed his brother. What an idiot he was to think that social boundaries would keep Aramis in check when they never have before.

"Being sorry isn't going to change anything, Aramis," Athos says, his voice even. "You'd best hope that the Queen remains barren. There will be nowhere to hide if she has a child and it looks like you."

Everything is different now. Athos can feel it. The world has tilted just slightly under the weight of his brother's actions. Where once there had been solid ground under his feet, dependable and strong, now there is only the shifting sand of an hourglass. Athos fears that it is only a matter of time before they are drawn under and buried.

 _end_

* * *

 _Athos had some things he needed to get off his chest. Thanks for reading!  
_


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